The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London 3)

Mackenzie shrugged.

“A treasure hunter?”

“He had no tools.”

“Move the boat. Post men at the dock. Whoever he is, leave him no means of escape.” Fabian cast her a sidelong glance. His expression darkened. “Keep the gates closed, and the doors locked until we’ve established who he is and what he wants here.”

“Aye, my lord. I’ll see to it at once.” Mackenzie gave a curt nod and marched away.

Fabian forced a smile as he returned to her side. “Perhaps we should retire for the evening. You may rest in your chamber, but should you leave the room I must insist that you inform me of your whereabouts.”

Lillian snorted. “What happened to me wearing breeches and letting my hair blow freely in the wind?”

“It is merely a precaution.”

“Why, because you fear Vane has come to take me home?”

The muscle in his jaw flexed as if warming up for a battle. “This is your home now. Vane will have to kill me before I’ll let him take you anywhere.”

Stunned, Lillian jerked her head back. Her shock had nothing to do with his comment but more her reaction to it. Rather than repel her, the possessiveness in his tone touched her heart. How was that possible? She’d married Fabian hoping to break free from the controlling attitude of society and men. But it wasn’t just that. An icy shiver raced through her body as she imagined Fabian collapsing to the ground, blood oozing from a wound to his chest.

“Vane won’t kill you.” The steely thread of determination in her voice sounded convincing. “He shot Lord Martin for dishonouring me.”

“Am I any different?”

If Fabian knew the truth, he would not dare compare himself to that blackguard. “That is hardly a question a man asks his wife on their wedding day. Besides, Vane has no desire to see me in widow’s weeds.” She sucked in a breath, pained by the thought of losing this irritating man even though he cared nothing for her.

Fabian remained silent although his pursed lips suggested he had more to say on the subject of Vane.

Lillian straightened. “If we are to muddle through this mess, as you suggested, we cannot keep secrets.” Heavens above, was she not the worst kind of hypocrite? “You spoke of another man, Doyle. Do you fear he is the one who arrived by boat?”

“Let us be clear about one thing. I fear no man — not Vane, and certainly not Doyle.” His gaze swept over her. “But Doyle is unpredictable. He uses underhanded techniques to make his point. Hence, my concern for your safety and that of my men.”

“You needn’t worry about me.” The annoying butterfly in her stomach fluttered about again, seeming to like it when he made a fuss. “If you give me what I asked for then I am more than capable of protecting myself.”

“You speak of a sword and pistols?” Amusement flashed in his eyes. “What if Doyle drugs your drink and lures you away under false pretences? What will you do then?”

She shrugged. “Whatever it takes to escape. Consequently, I have another request to make. I want a blade and sheath. Something small, easily concealed, perhaps with a strap and buckle.”

Fabian arched a brow. “You certainly know how to pique a man’s interest.” His gaze dropped to her bodice and then meandered all the way down to her toes. “For now, I shall grant your request. But at some point in the future, when you feel able, you will tell me what happened to you.”

Panic flared. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He closed the gap between them and his dark eyes fixed firmly on her. “Oh, you do. A lady does not demand weapons unless she fears for her life. You know I would never hurt you. But someone has.”

The conversation brought painful memories flooding back. Things that had no place in her mind on such a special day as this. “Let’s just say” — she stopped abruptly and swallowed to lubricate her dry throat — “you’re not the only man who has used me to hurt Vane.”

The blood drained from his face, leaving him deathly pale. “The difference is I shall spend the rest of my life making amends. I intend to ensure you find happiness here.”

If only he’d added with me.

A chill shivered through her, but she pushed his coat off her shoulders and handed the garment back to him. “Let’s go inside. There must be plenty of weapons here. A man doesn’t sail the seas without an armoury.” The chest of swords on the ship told her as much. “Should Doyle attempt anything foolish, it would help to know what he looks like and what his motive is for wanting to cause you harm.”

Fabian shrugged into his coat. The material bulged around the muscles in his arms, and her traitorous fingers itched to explore the contours. “Doyle is a large man with jowls rather than a jawline and hands the size of mallets.”

“Does he by any chance have access to a black carriage and have cheeks pitted with scars?” Since arriving at the castle, she’d not seen the pock-faced man. One did not forget a face like that, particularly not one sporting a menacing grin.

Fabian frowned. “No, but Doyle may have a scar above his right eye where I punched him so hard it split the skin.”